The Hound and The Lady
by IrishBabby
Summary: Ayla Blackwood has been sent from the Riverlands to be considered as a bride to the royal family. Though she does not peak the interest of many. She spends most of her allotted time exploring the city and dreaming of flying away from it all. This is her story of growing up and learning that some things are worth fighting for, especially a man she fears and comes to love.
1. Time Away and Time Again

Introduction:

It seemed as though the light shining on King's Landing was a light that radiated such a heat that even the stones beneath your feet felt like the seventh hell. Ayla Blackwood had always had an idea of what hell was like, she imagined it was like a prison, cells would burn and stones would cook flesh. King's Landing was just like she had imagined. Suitors and banquets had all brought about an air of peculiar unease. Something which Ayla felt uncomfortable with. King's Landing and it's people had left little remorse within her to assume that she had some sort of life with these people.

Ayla took a moment from her burning feet to notice a raven flying overhead. The cobblestone streets were narrow and slanted, as she walked barefoot through out the capital city. She had always liked ravens, they were smart.

She frowned. She missed her home, only for a moment. King's Landing had become her home for a nearly a fortnight. Raventree hall was becoming a distant memory to her as she knew that she would never be going back. Robert Baratheon had invited many female suitors to the capital. It seemed that with two young sons Robert, was eager to arrange marriages for the both of them. Rumor was that Geoffrey was to marry Sansa Stark, and Tommen Baratheon was being paired off as a usual custom. But Tommen was far too young for Ayla, but she was to be present none the less. Ayla told herself that she was ignored for courtship simply because she was older. But the reality of the fact was that she was only ten years older than Tommen, she could still produce him any number of heirs at the time of their marriage, but the sad truth was that she was plain. She had Raven black hair that only darkened in the sun, and skin that was almost translucent. Her milky pink flesh looked even paler against her black hair, and her eyes seemed to be so round that the grey iris' within them became unsettling to those looking at her. Her frame looked as though she was no more than a bag of bones, even today people in King's Landing were still mistaking her for a beggar. She walked the streets in common garb, keeping the flattery of dresses far from any citizen's mind.

Alas, this suitor trade would not be what kept her from returning to Raven Hall, but rather the talk of change. The city seemed scared. They feared a winter that hand not yet come, and a king that spent their money frivolously. Ayla knew politics very well, never engaging, but always observing from afar. She knew how men prayed to their own desires and only played the game for their best interest. Ayla, having met Robert Baratheon knew that she saw no king, only a man with a vice who fed his desires until he could no longer tie his shirt without having his hairy belly poking out the bottom. But if Robert Baratheon's didn't manage to choose her for his son, and her hand remained unclaimed, she would still never choose to go back to Riverlands.

Ayla scuttled about in King's Landing, dressed in a simple tunic and no shoes Ayla, felt that she could avoid the eyes of many, including those of the King's Guard, who's eyes she had slipped away from only this morning. She enjoyed this time to herself, and she often convinced herself she needed no castle and no husband to allow herself to be happy. Ayla had found her way to Fleabottom and met the kindness of a vender who gave her an apple the moment he looked into her eyes. She felt flattered, even though the man had a look upon his face that she could not place. She let the sweetness of the apple caress her tongue, never before had she tasted a fruit so fresh. It was as if the orchard was only minutes away, leaving this apple tart and crisp.

She was enjoying her treat and returned to eyeing the locals, needing only a moment to giggle at those coming and going from Petyr Baelish's brothel. All sorts of colorful characters entered and exited, while some of the most beautiful women Ayla had ever seen stood around a door in the back entrance. She had no idea why there were ugly princesses and beautiful whores - it was like a cruel joke the old Gods played on those playing the Game of Thrones.

Ayla watched as a man with little to no money propositioned one of the girls for some sort of act. She waved him away seeing the state of the man. Ayla watched as the man became enraged and grabbed her arm to demand her attention. The woman recoiled trying to escape his grasp. Ayla took a moment to think before she tossed the rest of the apple at the man's head. The woman looked as though she was going to laugh, but then the man's anger was directed towards Ayla, and she realized her moment of thought did her no good. The man came at her blinded with rage, furious that he'd been rejected and then humiliated. Ayla felt a tug on her hair before his fist grazed her face. The man was drunk, and was unable to land a strong blow. But to her surprise the grasp on her hair became very sudden and it began to hurt, and then it became incredibly painful. She realized that she was above the man who had swung at her, hanging by her hair in a taller man's grasp. This man stunned Ayla. His face was charred and burned, so grotesque that she felt fear, but then he shoved her aside and watched as the drunkard took one blow to the face and fell to the ground. Ayla saw two teeth fly out of his mouth when his head stopped bouncing off the cobblestone.

Ayla turned to look at her savior. Still just as grotesque as when she first saw him, and then she recognized him. _Sandor Clegane._ It seemed as though her short trip had come to an abrupt halt.

"You." he said in a low and grumbling voice. "You're to be taken to the king and seen fit for punishment."

"I didn't -" Ayla tried to protest.

"I don't care. Only the king cares what you have to say." he said.

"But I'm a guest-"

"That's nice. But a pretty girl like you gets to be a quest at the kings feet and tell him your sob story, Beggar."

"I'm not a beggar."

"Sure you're not." he said grabbing her by the hair again and twisting her arm, he flung her over to another Gold Cloak so as to detain her until they reached the castle. Ayla explained herself to the two Gold Cloaks nearest her, but no one seemed to care. Blackwood was barely enough of a name to recognize, and no one ever learned their house words.

 _Courage in Fall, Wisdom in Flight._

* * *

Ayla Blackwood spent a very frustrating week a dark cell of King's Landing. Her privileges had finally come to an end, and here she was waiting to explain herself to Robert Baratheon. She knew that these guards would be flogged for mistaking her for some common beggar, but then she realized that the choice to wear those clothes and go out unattended was her idea. These were her mistakes as well.

When the cell door opened and the light showed a glint of shine in her black hair, she knew that she looked even more like a beggar than when she went in. She took her sad appearance before the king. Her head hung low awaiting her king to address her. Ayla raised her head and saw Geoffrey Baratheon. A familiar face, but not one to be found sitting on the iron throne. Geoffrey was obviously new to power and finding it very enjoyable.

"My King?" Ayla said questioningly.

"Yes, I am your king, and I don't quite care for that tone. For wasting my time I'll have you flogged."

"I'm sorry my king, I just didn't realize your father-"

"My late father, may the Gods keep his peace." Geoffrey said. Ayla realized why she had heard bells ringing from the sept and the castle the night she was thrown in the dungeon.

"Yes, May the old Gods and the New keep his peace."

"Your condolences are lost on my grieving ears. But as punishment for your crimes you will be flogged, for lets say, oh, a good ten lashings should do it."  
Geoffrey spoke cooly, "now, next law breaker, bring him forth." the king said.  
"My King, I am but a guest of your castle, my name is Ayla Blackwood, I have been mistakenly placed in your dungeon and do not believe I am to be punished for a crime I did not do, or have no such knowledge of."

Geoffrey had an irritated look slide across his face. "Blackwood." Geoffrey recognized the name. "For attacking Lord Crakehall, I give a sentence of ten lashings. For being insolent I give you two more. And for wasting my time you get another three. Now Sir Ilyn, see that Lady Blackwood gets her punishment. All fifteen."

Ayla's face froze as she realized Geoffrey had known her face all along. And that he was always just as cruel as she had suspected. To her dismay she was hauled off to a courtyard while the king went about his daily business. However Ayla was not far from earshot so that the king could savor her screams.

* * *

Sandor Clegane had been by the King's side since the late Robert Baratheon had died suddenly in a hunting accident. It seemed to him that Geoffrey has little to no grief for his fathers death. What grief that did exist was replaced by elation from assuming the throne. Geoffrey had quickly grown bored the first day with small council matters, and decided that with his new power, he would execute the things he enjoyed. The Gold Cloaks had an ear out for any who opposed Geoffrey's new rule and quickly the dungeons had become full with petty men and women who dared utter even the slightest detest for the boy King. As they began to pull the citizens from the dungeon and offer a violent punishment as penance, Sandor Clegane's frown became even more prominent when they pulled the girl he had arrested several days ago. He watched as she pleaded with the king to understand that she was a guest Sandor realized he believed her this time. She had a familiar face, and now that he saw her in the Red Keep he realized he had seen her face only weeks ago while she met with Robert Baratheon about a possible future in King's Landing. Sandor also remembered how the King had waved her away and told the Maester to send a raven to the Riverlands to have someone collect her.

Sandor had rarely felt sorrow for anything but himself, but he found that as he got older a maidens face had the ability to tug on just one or two heart strings just enough that his scowl would deepen and he'd need to find an extra sack of wine just to forget he had felt something. This was one of those times. Geoffrey enjoyed sentencing her a punishment, because it was the first person they had pulled from the dungeon that didn't deserve some sort of punishment. Geoffrey knew that. And Geoffrey enjoyed doing something he knew he shouldn't because it exercise his new role as King. A role that he seemed to like very much.

Sandor listened to Maester Pycelle speak to Varys about the negativity hurting the girl would bring, but both of them seemed to fear advising the King. He heard Varys tell Pycelle to see that she got excellent care and do everything he could to avoid sending the girl home with scars. Pycelle nodded and spoke to several servants whom he sent to return the girl to his apothecary. Sandor knew other words had been spoken but was unsure as to what was said when the first screams found his ears.

* * *

The punishment had come swiftly, and before Ayla knew it she could feel a numbing sensation on her back. She felt tired, like she had ridden for a day on a horse that would not break. She felt thirsty, and before she could ask for water, her eyelids shut.

When Ayla regained consciousness she felt that strange numbing sensation hadn't left her. She found that her back felt cool, no not cool, frozen. She laid across a wooden table, no shirt and found that she was covered in shards of ice. The only thing that could cross her mind was: _"where the hell did they get ice?"_

She could smell a familiar medical ointment, and felt that by candlelight she felt safe, if only for a moment. At least she was in the care of someone, and not back in the black cells. She fell asleep for a couple hours at a time, occasionally she would hear someone in the room with her, or a slight shuffle of table items. Eventually there came a small light from under the door and she realized it had been shut all night long. The ice had melted away and she felt the lack of milk of poppy now that several hours had gone by. She could feel the pain return to her wounds, but it was only moments later that Pycelle returned to help her drink milk of poppy. Before he left he was bombarded by a small errand boy who had another sack of ice. The bag was dripping and leaving little droplets on the floor.

"As you asked Ser."

"I am no ser." she heard a familiar voice say. She felt the cool ice find her back once again and felt an odd sense of relief in the wood table she called a bed. Just before she fell asleep she realized the noises that had woke her had all come from the same man who had sat ever so quietly in the corner of the room.


	2. A Family History

Ayla Blackwood understood that her time at King's Landing had been extended for a short period of time. Why Geoffrey allowed for Ayla to receive such care, she did not know. But it was nothing worth fretting over. She had spend some time in a solemn room once her back had managed to close all the open wound properly without and further cracking or bleeding. She could still feel the tightness in her back, like her skin had become a corset and it was being cinched tighter and tighter by the hour. She tried to sleep most of the time. Her boredom resided in her loneliness and for the first time in a long time, she actually thought about going home.

She thought about Alyn, her twin brother. Of course she thought about Lucas and Hoster, Edmund and Bethany, and yes even little Robert. The only sibling that couldn't be further from her mind was Brynden. Ayla's mind refused to give pause to Brynden and how her oldest brother was doing. But she often thought of Alyn. He was the only person in her family that she felt close to. Her father, Tytos, was so overwhelmed with his son's that when Alyn and Ayla had shared a womb it was almost as if she had been forgotten by the rest of the family. The name day's shared between them were always really meant for Alyn. Ayla was almost always forgotten by her elder siblings. Occasionally her mother would see to that she got an extra piece of lemon cake that Ayla would save for the next day. That way she could have a day all to herself, even if it wasn't shared with anyone. If Ayla had to tell you the truth she would say that aside from her baby brother Robert, Alyn was her only true friend in the world. Somehow he understood her pain and tried to show her kindness and protect her from the dealings that he could.

She remembered the day that she left for King's Landing. Ayla was the eldest daughter, Bethany was only six and wouldn't bleed for many more years. Tytos' only offering to King Robert was Alyn, his eldest and very plain daughter. Tytos had explained that if she did not exceed the King's expectations that he would be quite cross with her. Her father had used the term "quite cross," in a very calm manner. But Ayla knew that really meant her failure would only mean a great punishment for her. And that was why she had refused to return home even when her leave from King's Landing was permitted. Ayla had grown tired of returning to a family that she felt no love from, she was also aware of how herself and her younger sister Bethany were like toys for her father, pawns to be sold. Though Ayla could find no reason to return, Bethany's face always appeared in the back of her mind.

The Blackwood family was old. During the Age of Heroes they fought valiantly against House Bracken. But with two competitive houses filled with such bloodthirsty men, the women were rarely thought of, Ayla had become aware that in the eyes of her father she was really only a pair of young tits and a fertile womb. Once when Tytos was very drunk he joked with her that he would sell her to the Bracken household if only to see her beaten and returned due to damage. That same night she had to push away her drunken father when his hand slipped down her dress. That night she managed to spend the night in a kitchen closet, falling asleep on a bag of grain rice which she remembered to think was so soft. She shuddered at the thought that Bethany might one day have to go through the same ordeal. Ayla could only hope that her fathers age would steal his wit and leave room for Lucas or Hoster to rule Raventree Hall. And she hoped her eldest brother Brynden, died of a cold in the coming winter, perhaps he would even be kind enough to take their father with him.

* * *

While Ayla seemed to dream away some painful memories, Sandor Clegane had slipped into her room late at night. The King had gone off to sleep hours ago, and it seemed like lately when Sandor had his bedtime wine, he would find himself wandering here instead. He would see Ayla about every other day, but every single day for as many times as he could, he walked by her bedroom door, even taking several extra minutes out of his normal route to the Red Keep just to pass the door. He would eye the wood, the lock, the handle, and assume that everything was okay just from glancing at the door.

A week ago Maester Pycelle assured him that she would need no more ice, and that her back had healed enough that all they could do was wait and let her body do the rest. Sandor had understood and when he went back to his chamber he used the last bag of ice he had acquired for her on his sore neck, that night was one of the more relaxing nights he had experienced in a good long while. Sandor didn't know why he let himself get soft around these girls. It had never bothered him before, but after the King's road with Sansa Stark, he had realized that a doe-eyed face was beginning to weigh on him, and he couldn't help but take pity on the young girls that faced Geoffrey's wrath. Even more so, he felt responsible for Ayla's arrest and realized without his arrogance this whole matter could have been avoided.

Sandor wondered if this pity stemmed from the hatred he still carried for his brother. Or perhaps the ache that his still felt for his sister, even though Sandor could no longer remember her face. Sandor hated that he could no longer remember what she looked like, and it was likely that guilt that caused him to seek care for these young girls trapped within the capital's walls.

Tonight Sandor had been drunk enough that he managed to enter Ayla's room without hesitation. Sandor's gaze immediately looked to the fire burning in the fire place. With wine in his belly, and a fire at her side he felt such an overwhelming warmth that he had to open the window. The moonlight felt cold on his scars and the breeze tickled each bead of sweat. This calmed him.

* * *

Ayla also found the cool breeze refreshing as the weight of the feather blankets had kept her body warm for days. The cool sensation nudged her awake, and while laying on her stomach she gently watch the man in her window sill. She could smell wine, and she watched the way he swayed. Ayla wondered if he was dangerous or harmless. She watched the fire go out beside her, he had ignored the small embers and let the wood char and die, for that Ayla was grateful. For the first time in several days her room began to feel comfortable, except for the stranger in her bedroom window.

Sandor turned around to look at the girl. Ayla shut her eyes and pretended to still be asleep.

Ayla tried to steady her breathing and show no fear. She could feel his eyes on her and she didn't know what to expect. _Would he try to take advantage of her? Why was he here?_ Was all Ayla could think. Ayla's questions subsided when after several minutes of his stare, she felt him quietly shut the window, and stumble out of her room. The door clicked shut quite loudly, and both of them assumed the other had heard it. Ayla sat up, feeling the strain on her back quite clearly. She watched her bedroom door and waited, secretly hoping Sandor was still on the other side of the door.

After several moments of waiting for any noise, she lifted herself out of bed very carefully, and with very little effort she opened the window to let the moonlight back in. She had never enjoyed fresh air so much, she opened both window panes until they were as wide as they would go before climbing back in bed and beginning dreams of her mysterious visitor.

* * *

 _Author Comment: I am re-doing much of my work so far, and began condensing chapters today, if you are a subscriber and are seeing chapters with content you've already read, please be patient, as for tonight I will have posted new work. Thank you._


	3. Withering and Changing

Ayla Blackwood quickly took comfort in her silent midnight meetings with the Hound. Though they never spoke, she finally could find solace in no longer being alone at King's Landing. This went on for a short while until Sandor realized she was sleeping less and less. This made him feel bad because he could tell she was pretending to still be asleep, The Hound assumed that he frightened her. Ayla had no idea why he was even here. It had become her greatest mystery.

Time had begun to wither the Hound. His thoughts had almost become consumed of fair maidens, his drunken stupors became more and more frequent as he began to resent the Boy King. He felt as though his debt to honor a king had been wasted on a boy so stupid as Geoffrey. Several weeks had passed in King's Landing. The Hound had made several trips to Ayla Blackwood's room while she slept, but lately he had been standing outside her door drinking ale or wine until he felt himself sway enough that he needed the wall for support. Ayla had healed considerably in the last week, enough to mobilize her and leave her awake at night now that she was no longer ingesting Milk of Poppy. This meant that the Hound had to be discreet with his obsession. The Hound feared any possible instance in which the could possibly find themselves communicating. So he avoided entering her room, hoping that a closeness could still be felt from a distance away.

He wondered if she would be send home to the Riverlands. Something which scared Sandor, but in regards to the way the King had been treating his subjects, especially those from the Stark family, Sandor realized that he knew very little about the well being of the kingdom and feared that The North would suffer as well as the capital. It pained him to see it begin to burn.

Sandor Clegane had also appointed a handmaid to see that Alya Blackwood had someone to care for her, but mostly report to him on Ayla's behalf. And in the meantime he attended the King's day to day schedule.

* * *

Time had been kind to Ayla Blackwood. Her wounds healed more and more every day, though she thought she might die of boredom. Everyday she bathed in a tub that sat before a window that looked out into the city. She was fortunate enough to have the breeze carry away the awful smell that could be found within the city. She knew it was only a matter of time before she finally would leave this wretched place and hope that her duties never brought her back here again.

Except for one thing.

She found the visits of Ser Clegane intriguing. He seemed so studious and curious of her being near him that Ayla couldn't even fathom as to why he was there. The Hound puzzled her, and in her boredom she tried to put the pieces together. There were many morning in which she woke up to find that the fire at her bedside had been smothered out. Sometimes she would find an empty flagon and wished he would just once leave a little wine for her.

Ayla Blackwood dressed and began her walk to Maester Pycelle's cellar so that she could have an ointment applied to her back by her useful hand maiden, Chantra. She soon felt it odd that there were few people in the castle chambers, the whole area had been deserted.

"My lady, I hear bells." Chantra said.

"As do I." Ayla confirmed.

Together, they carefully stepped into the familiar cobblestone that had once gotten Ayla into so much trouble. They found peasants, noble men, women, and children all gathering at the City Square. As if some announcement was to be made.

The two women rounded the corner, making their way up a slanted road to find themselves met with what had to be the entire City shoulder to shoulder. Ayla realized they were gathered around the Great Sept of Baelor. Chantra quickly became lost amongst all the shouting folk and Ayla had made her way carefully and quietly to the middle of the gathering. Catching a glimpse of The Hound in all his knight armor, equipped with a dog-head helmet that was clasped under his arm.

Ayla pushed her way to get closer.

She felt someone brush against her back and she found the pain make her aware of the wounds on her back. But still she pressed on. She wanted to get a closer look at her Hound while they both knew the other was wide awake. Perhaps she could show him she was not afraid. And perhaps he would explain what puzzled her most. Once again her back felt a rush of pain. She looked down, and once she looked up again, she locked into Sandor's eyes and she knew that he could see her. The pain she had just felt turned into a rush of fluttering wings inside her stomach. Her face felt hot, and she wanted to turn away but she didn't dare.

She realized that the king was conducting a trial. And looked away only for a moment to see that Ned Stark was to be punished for the crime of treason. When Geoffrey declared that Ned Stark be executed. Ayla's eye returned to Sandor's fearing that he was to be the one to carry out the sentence. She didn't want to watch Sandor kill anyone.

Ser Ilyn Payne quickly stepped out from behind the kind to carry out the order that had made everyone around her become filled with emotion. Some faces held sadness, while others filled with rage and glee to see such morbid bloodshed. Ayla's eyes stayed locked with Sandor's until she saw Ser Ilyn Payne's sword fall, and then she turned away just before Ned Starks head rolled in front of Geoffrey's feet.

* * *

Ayla fought her way back to the Red Keep and found Maester Pycelle wandering the halls, also returning from the trial, clearly very upset and unsure of what was to come of the King's actions. He waived Ayla away - and she chose to seclude herself in her room without food or fresh candles. She just chose to sit in silence realizing that Mad kings were everywhere.

Later on that evening there came a faint knock at her door. It was so faint that she couldn't tell if someone had just grazed it by accident, or deliberately knocked with intention to see her. She opened the door slowly at first, and then all at once.

And there he was.

The Hounds face held scars she had never seen before. Everyone knew his face was scarred, but now she could see how truly awful the pain must've been as he suffered through that ordeal. She pitied the way his eye lid fell and covered his Grey iris almost completely. His hair looked unwashed and beaten from a day in the sun.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

Ayla was stunned. She remembered how the day they had first met he threw her in a black cell due to mistaken identity and false accusations. Perhaps his visits had been some sort of penance for his mistake.

"Well, after that display, who would be all right?" she stated.

"I meant your wounds. Have they healed?" he asked.

"Some." Ayla said. "You welcome to come sit if you'd like. You look tired."

His eyes said that he didn't sleep much. His armor said he was sweltering from the heat. And his lips said that he needed a drink. Sandor silently took a seat, the one closest to the door. Ayla brought him a cup of warm water unused in her mornings bath. Sandor seemed reluctant to take it. But he did, and this was a grateful gesture to Ayla. She felt like they were speaking for the first time.

"Why'd they kill him?" She asked.

"M'Lady, you and all the seven kingdoms, and all the seven gods, old and new will be asking that, but there is no answer." Sandor told her once the water was completely gone from the cup.

"I see." Ayla said. "Can I be of service to you?" she asked.

Sandor felt near shock by the fact that she was freely offering her service. He thought of many things he would want from her, a glass of wine, her hand on his face, the smell of her hair, perhaps even a glimpse of her unscarred skin. These thoughts flooded his mind and he realized that the attraction he felt towards this girl had become unhealthy. He shook the thoughts from his head.

"No, I am required to make sure the king's guests are still here." he said, knowing the King only worried of those guests fleeing King's Landing robbing him of support and committing treason. Sandor knew that Geoffrey would only use his current guests as currency to lesser families hoping he can gain men and gold for a reign that would surely bring the Lannister name to power. Something Sandor feared for this girl. The war brewing beyond these castle walls was surely to sweep her up. No doubt the Blackwood family had inquired about their daughter, asking for her safe return - Geoffrey had denied the request twice now by raven and Sandor knew this meant she was a bargaining chip.

Sandor had grown tired over time and found that the King bothered him even more than when he was just a spoiled prince. Sandor had hated everything for a long time - and it seemed that he had witnessed kindness from Sansa Stark, and the beauty of Ayla Blackwood - this gave him the ability to pity and this uncontrollable urge to protect. He hated that he felt something other than hate. In fact, feeling that he had gone soft was something he hated. But he noticed in his new ability to feel something he suspected was similar to happiness, he had the ability to hate with a passion he never had before. Sandor Clegane's scales had tipped. He was stumbling around in his head and hated that he couldn't control his feelings. He couldn't even control how much he hated anymore.

So he decided.

"M'Lady. I've come to tell you that your family has sent for you."

Ayla wished that was not the case.

"I do not want to return home." she said.

"You won't." Sandor said. "But of your own free will."

Ayla became perplexed.

"The king will likely use you as trade for some support from the Riverland Families. No doubt they've been following Rob Stark." The Hound said.

Ayla was even more confused now. She had been oblivious to this war all along.

"Winter is coming, and so is war. In a short while I will send for you in the night, girl." The Hound looked at her intensely. "Then I will send you home. And you will go home. And there will be no fighting it, girl. You must do as I say."

Ayla stood unmoved. Nearly shocked by what she had now just realized. She didn't want to return home, but she also didn't want to return home in pieces while the King blackmailed her family. But mostly, she was shocked by the immense risk the Hound was taking by telling her this. Was he actually being kind? Why was he risking this for her?

"Don't be stupid, girl." The Hound said acknowledging her blank stare.

"What's in it for you?" Ayla asked. "I don't see why the Hound has any means to help me."

Ayla had commented on the Hound's softness. And he did not like it.

With a Raised voice, The Hound said, "I also have the means to let you rot! Stay here if you want, girl. I don't care!" He stood to leave, he opened the door, but just before he walked out Ayla murmured a small, "wait."

The Hound stopped.

"Thank you," she started. "I know you must be risking much, and for that, I will not ask why." The Hound turned away from her to exit again. "BUT!" she exclaimed, "If you do still wish, you may return here if you ever please. The only times I've never felt alone in King's Landing were when you were by my bedside."

"A girl as pretty as you should not want such a man by her bedside." The Hound said. He was embarrassed that she knew about his visits. He thought that she had only noticed him the one time, he was careful, made sure to be unseen. The Hound didn't want to reveal this unfamiliar weakness that he had only recently come to possess. "I do not need your company." he said. "Just be ready for when I do come, there will be little time to waste."


End file.
